The Red Thread (8 page)

I get in the short line, mostly made up of elderly people on this bright morning. As I get to the cash register, I am met by an elderly Asian woman with a bright smile.

“Hello, Jess! How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Fine,” I tell her, like I tell everyone else, “I guess I’ve been pretty busy.”

I used to come here a lot as a child with my mom and sister, but as I got older, I stopped coming here as often, but when I do show up, Mrs. Chen still greets me like I was just here the other day.

“What can I get for you today?”

“A cup of English breakfast tea,” I tell her. One cup a day just isn’t enough for me. “And also a blueberry muffin!” I add right afterward.

My biggest weakness, other than tea and books, are blueberry muffins. I’m not big on sweets, but I love blueberry muffins, especially Mrs. Chen’s.

She brings over a small bag and a steaming Styrofoam cup of tea. She hands it over, and I pay her the money, remembering the price by heart. I’m a tea junkie, searching for his fix. I live off tea like I live off air and sarcasm.

I wish her a good day, and I take my tea and muffin to a nearby park. It’s empty, while the kids are at school and the parents are at work. I put my iPod back on, and I sit on the bench. It’s a sunny day, and I feel the warmth on my skin. The tea burns my warm hands, but when I sip on it, it feels good as it fills me up.

I take a bite of the muffin and look around at the scenery. Multicolored leaves fall to the ground around me. With my music playing and a hot tea in my hands, this could almost be considered heaven. I pull a book out of my bag and open to the page I left off at.

I don’t make it very far before a tap on my shoulder interrupts me. I look over to see Mr. Samuels. He’s an elderly man in his early eighties with thinning white hair and a large gut that sticks out. I watch his lips move, but I don’t hear a sound. I am almost tempted to leave my music playing, but that would be considered rude, or something like that.

I pause the music only to hear him talking about how beautiful the day is.

“This weather is so lovely. I do love the autumn. Don’t you, Jesse?”

He also will only call me by my full name, for a reason I don’t know. Countless times in the past I told him I prefer Jess, but he just ignores it, and I just stopped telling him.

“It’s okay, Mr. Samuels.”

“I can’t wait for the winter, though, when the snow covers the ground like a white blanket. It’s beautiful. Oh, do you hear that, Jesse? Oh yes, don’t you hear those lovely birds chirping. Chirp! Chirp! They must be so happy.”

I look around, but no birds are in sight, nor do I hear any. Mr. Samuels is also senile. He’s great company, because you never know what he’s going to say next. I know all the children in town make fun of him, but he’s a nice guy. He’s weird, but he’s nice. But then again, I’m the town lunatic, so I should not say anything.

“Oh to be a bird, it must be so freeing. I used to dream of being a bird, Jesse. Did you know that? I could just fly away and go anywhere I would like. I would find new trees to live in and make friends all over. I would be a beautiful bird with bright blue feathers.”

“That’s nice,” I respond. “I guess.” I never know what to say to him.

“Or maybe a penguin… but they don’t fly, so maybe not. I’m glad you’re home, Jesse. The town isn’t the same without you. Are you better?”

Am I better? I don’t even know the answer myself.

“I’m working on it,” I finally answer. I’m working on it.

“Oh that’s good. You should come around for tea sometime. It’s awfully lonely.”

“Sure, yeah, I will.”

“Good. How is your sister, Claire?” For years Clara and I have told him her name is Clara, but he still calls her Claire, so we just stopped correcting him.

“She’s good. Still in school.”

“That’s good. I must go. Good-bye, Jesse.”

He gets up and walks away, chirping under his breath. He has a point, though. Being a bird would be freeing. I would travel everywhere if I were one. To have the ability to fly must be the most freeing and wonderful thing ever. I wonder if birds appreciate it, or do they take it for granted? Just like how us humans take walking for granted. We have two legs that can take us anywhere, yet the majority of us stay planted in one place, never seeing what is out there in the world.

I finish off my tea, and I start walking toward the bookshop. I clock in, and Peter is actually on the floor. Not literally on the floor, although that has happened before. I came in one morning, and he was just passed out on the sales floor, reeking of Jack Daniels and wearing yesterday’s clothes. Trying to get him to move was quite aggravating. He’s a rather large man.

“Hey, Peter.”

“Jess, you will be ringing today.”

That is all he says before leaving for his own prison: his office. I often wonder why he drinks so much. It’s like he can’t live unless he has a little buzz going on. What happened in his life to make him this way?

Jill and Laurie enter the shop, and I greet them. The entire staff today, wow. As the day goes on, Jill sits around while Laurie walks through the store trying to find things to do. It’s pretty dead throughout the day.

“You’re dressed nicely today,” Jill remarks, lightly tapping the collar of my button-up. She sits on the desk by the cash register.

“Thank you,” I reply, my voice low and my eyes on the ground.

“Be confident.”

“What?”

“You talk like you’re afraid of the world. You shouldn’t be. Look someone right in the eye, talk loud, and be brave. If the world bites, well, then you bite it right the hell back.”

I nod. “Okay.”

The day goes by rather slowly. Thankfully no Mrs. Rattree to deal with today. I think Jill scared her off for a little while. Some people stare while others whisper. Usually if they do talk about me, it’s not with me in sight, which I am glad for. I want to pretend like I’m not the town pariah.

Then the little silver bell jingles above the door, and I hear the sound of heavy footsteps clomping away on the hard floor of the shop. They stop right in front of me, but I don’t look up. I have my book open in my hands, and I pretend to be focused on the scene unraveling in the novel.

“Hello, J-Jess.”

That adorable stutter is enough to have me slam the novel closed, the sound echoing through the mostly quiet shop. I look up to see Adam, with his light brown hair nicely styled and wearing a nice button-up shirt, with a plaid bow tie. He wears a pair of black, thick-framed glasses over his eyes. He looks good in glasses. I don’t know how he did it, but he somehow became even more adorable. I use that word a lot to describe him, but it is the word that fits Adam best. If a small animal turned into a human being, it’d be Adam.

“I like your bow tie” is the only thing I can say. No other words seem to form in my brain. It’s like it is just a thick fog, and nothing can be formed. Not even a syllable. I look over at Jill, who has a smirk on her lips. She jumps off the desk.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” She walks through the maze of bookshelves, and I silently thank her. I turn back to Adam. Alone at last.

“Thank you. It’s b-b-busy today,” he jokes, with a smirk playing upon those soft pink lips.

“Yeah, ha-ha…,” I say with the most awkward laugh anyone has ever heard. If Adam is adorable in human form, then I am awkward in human form. Adorable meet awkward. His smile begins to disappear, and my heart drops.

“Are, are you, um, o-okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I am. Don’t worry.”

What the hell am I doing?

“You, you s-s-s-said you w-were working, s-s-s-s-so I wanted to s-s-s-surprise you.” He has a giant grin on his face, like he is so proud of himself. He really is just a tall dog, probably one with floppy ears too.

“Oh yes, I’m so surprised. Incredibly.” The sarcasm is dripping from my voice.

“I-I was t-too obvious?”

I nod. “Slightly.”

He pouts his lips, and never in my life have I wanted to grab a person and kiss one like I do now. He licks his lips, and I can’t tear my eyes away from them. I can only imagine them tasting like heaven. No, they’re probably better than heaven, and unlike heaven, I actually know that Adam’s lips exist.

“I g-get too excited s-s-s-s-s-s-sometimes. It’s a p-problem of m-mine.”

“It’s fine,” I reassure him. “I still like that you’re here.”

His smile somehow becomes bigger, and joy radiates from his entire being, and it’s all from me. I have to admit I do like being the cause of that dorky smile.

“S-s-so there are r-r-reasons why, why I am, um, here.”

I look into his eyes and can’t stop the smile forming on my own face. His eyes are that powerful. They don’t make it hurt to smile when I’m around him.

“I w-wanted t-t-t-to ask you… out on a… d-d-d-date?” he states, sounding unsure as he gets to the final word.

A
date
? Me? Why, I am craving to ask, but no, I shouldn’t. Jill says I need to act confident, although I might have to fake it.

“A
date
?” The word sounds foreign on my tongue. I mean I have been on dates before… it’s just been a while. A long while, and none of them were very good. I never even made it to a third date before. By the second date, they all found me too weird or messed up to want to see again. My life leading up to the hospital stay was a continual
dark day
.

“Y-yeah… I h-h-hope that is, is okay?” The smile falls from his face, and a blush rises to his cheeks. He looks down toward the ground. “If it isn’t, you c-c-can let me know.”

“Sure, yeah. That’d be nice,” I finally answer. The moment I answer, I somewhat regret it. Should I really be going on a date? Should I throw myself into someone’s life? No one should have to deal with my baggage. It’s my baggage to deal with on my own.

His smile grows wide, and I am almost sure he’d float away if it weren’t for the grand thing known as gravity. “That is s-s-swell.”

Swell. I like that. It’s not a word you hear often anymore, but it suits him. I like that he says swell. It just adds to his allure.

“Exquisite,” I respond back, using my favorite word.

“S-s-see you to-tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I ask. Shouldn’t we plan on a date first, before he tells me a day?

“Therapy?”

Right. That’s tomorrow night. It’s been a little under two weeks since we first met, but it oddly feels much longer, in a good way. Getting to talk to him has just been wonderful. It feels right to have in him in my life, like he belongs in my life.

Now the only question is, can I handle having someone in my life?

WHILE LYING
in bed, my thoughts turn toward Adam. I’m happy he asked me out, but I can’t lie and say I’m not apprehensive about this. The last time someone asked me out on a date, it was a long time ago—I hardly remember how long it has been—and it ended up being a prank. Afterward he made fun of me with all of his friends about how he went on a date with the crazy guy in town. Oh yeah, even before my stay in the hospital, people already thought I was crazy. I sometimes had a habit of lashing out at others. Nothing too bad, but I would get paranoid, and I guess I yelled at a few people? I don’t really remember much. I had an emotional breakdown, and I’m still reeling from all the side effects. I remember punching a hole through a wall when I was home, and I remember how it completely freaked my mom out. She called my dad up crying, saying they needed to get me help. That was the first time she really noticed how messed up I was.

That was also the week I slashed my wrists open.

My phone vibrates, and I grab it off the nightstand. It’s Alex.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Hey, Jess. Do you want to do something tonight? Tommy is already drunk, and you know how he is. I brought him home, but do you want to hang out?” His voice sounds hoarse over the phone, almost as if he has been crying.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Cool, I’ll pick you up in five minutes.”

The dial tone buzzes, and I pocket my cell phone. I lie back on the bed, wondering what’s wrong. Alex is much more open with his feelings than Tommy, but I don’t remember the last time he cried. Probably when Nikki broke his heart in two. She didn’t just break it. She ripped it out of his chest and crushed it until it was dirt on the ground.

I hear a car pull up to my house, and I am out the door, telling my parents I’ll be home later tonight. I jump into the passenger seat of the car. Alex looks at me and gives me a small smile.

“Where to?” he asks.

I shrug. “Surprise me.”

He hits the pedal, and we’re off. He is a much more cautious driver than Tommy. He actually pays attention to all the road signs and speed limits. I feel much safer being in his car. When I’m with Tommy, I fear for my life. It’s funny how I’m afraid to die with
him
, but not too long ago, I was willing to take my own life.

Alex comes to a halt outside the abandoned warehouse, our usual hangout spot. I guess he couldn’t think of anything new. Now I’m really wishing I didn’t say to surprise me. A person can only have so much of a crappy old warehouse, especially when it’s falling apart.

We get out of the car and sit on the stolen old couches.

“You look good, Jess.”

“Thanks,” I say, before we are bathed in silence once again.

We just sit there, my eyes on the ground. My fingers tap along my leg with a slow rhythm. I don’t know what to say. I just don’t know how to interact with people anymore because I’m afraid of what’s inside me, and I don’t want it to get out.

“Jess…,” he whispers.

I turn toward him. He looks up and stares right into my eyes.

“I really did miss you while you were away….”

“You mean, while I was locked up basically.”

“You say it like you’re a head case.”

“Well, aren’t I?”

“No. Not even close. If you were a head case, you’d be like murdering people in one of those slasher films you love so much.”

“Well, maybe I have a machete hidden away with my hockey mask somewhere,” I joke.

He laughs.